Page 25 of Single Mom's Bikers

“Late night?” Chase appears in my doorway, sketch pad under his arm.

“Just thinking.” I turn from the window. “We should head home. Talk about this situation.”

Chase’s eyebrows rise. “What situation?”

“You know what.” I gather my keys. “The way you look at her. The way Zane spends every free moment with her girls. The way I…”

“Can’t keep your eyes off her?” Chase smirks. “Yeah, noticed that.”

At home, we gather in the den, our usual spot for serious conversations. When Zane joins us, still wearing Evie’s scent on his clothes, the tension thickens.

“So.” Chase pours whiskey. “We finally talking about her?”

“About damn time.” Zane accepts his glass.

“Speaking of watching.” Chase settles into his chair. “There’s something you should know about my window.”

As Chase explains about Evie’s late-night shows, I watch Zane’s face darken. “You’ve both been watching her?”

“Not planned,” I start, but he cuts me off.

“That’s not the point. Since when do we keep secrets?”

“We don’t.” Chase leans forward. “Which is why we’re talking now. About all of it.”

The whiskey burns familiar paths as silence settles. Years of sharing everything—business, dreams, even women sometimes. But this feels different.

“She’s not like the others,” Zane says finally. “Her girls…”

“Are already part of our lives.” Chase nods. “And she fits. With all of us.”

I study my glass, choosing words carefully. “You both want her.”

It’s not a question. Doesn’t need to be.

“Like you don’t?” Chase challenges.

“That’s not?—”

“Cut the bullshit, Rick.” Zane stands, restless. “We all want her. Question is, what are we going to do about it?”

More silence. More whiskey.

“Could work,” Chase speaks slowly. “We’ve shared before.”

“This would be different.” I set my glass down. “More permanent.”

“Good.” Zane’s voice holds certainty. “She deserves permanent.”

No more games. No more pretending we don’t all feel it.

Chase checks his wristwatch and rises suddenly. “Need to show you something, little brother.”

“What?”

“It’s almost ten.” Chase grins. “Time for the show.”

The lights are off in Evie’s bedroom, but we know she’s home.

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